don't keep it all together
by letsplayscrabble
Summary: [linstead oneshot] jay tries to deal with his ptsd, but erin got on the plane to take the fbi job in new york and he just can't do it without her.


She'd been gone three weeks now. Three weeks in the Big Apple with her nice new, hopefully cushy job and with her hopefully kind and welcoming boss and with her hopefully significantly larger paycheck.

He wanted the absolute best for her, he did. There wasn't a doubt in his head that he did but there was that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he needed her to come back, because the nights were getting longer and darker and his sleep was getting to be less and less and the only thing that could bring him any semblance of comfort anymore was a bottle of alcohol when it used to be her hands and her lips and her tongue and he seemed to be going backwards in all the progress that he had made in going to therapy and in talking to other struggling soldiers and he really, _really_ hated himself for that.

"Done for the night?" It was Hermann, with his warm, steady gaze and that familiar glint of concern behind his eyes because Jay had been planted on this very barstool for hours now with a glass full of beer in his right, tapping his still blank phone screen with his left, and he realized somewhere in the back of his head he probably looked absolutely pathetic and heartbroken sitting up here as if on display for all the other poor ol' saps looking to drown their sorrows- but he was past the point of giving a damn.

He managed one small shake of his head and maybe the senior fireman understood or maybe he ducked into the back room to make a phone call for someone to come pick up his sorry ass but he'd save whoever it was the trouble and duck out himself and rescue at least an ounce of his decency. Shoving a hand into his back pocket he scrounged up a few bills that he wasn't even sure would cover what he'd allowed to burn the back of his throat for hours now- because if he was being completely honest, he'd lost track awhile ago- tossing them on the counter and making a beeline towards the front door and keeping his eyes trained stubbornly on his shoes as he placed one foot in front of the other because he really, _really_ wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer.

Jay realized far too late that he was in no condition to drive and that the rest of the unit had called it quits hours ago and the whole point of him getting up and leaving from that damn stool had been to get himself home without the aid of another and so he let out a disgruntled sigh and put his head down and started the walk back to Mouch's place because he'd been desperate and Trudy had offered one very late night and in the middle of a jumble of paperwork and he'd been in absolutely no place to turn it down. Sometimes Will even stopped by to keep him company, on the nights he didn't end up crashing at Nat's.

But no amount of time spent with the golden boy of emergency medicine would ever truly ease the emptiness he felt where Erin Lindsay should be and as the days and then the weeks went on and he managed to work up the nerve to hand their mother's ring back to his sympathetic older brother, and the memories of the blood and the screams and the gunshots began to affect his actions up in the bullpen he realized he was falling apart and that she was the only one who would have any idea of how to stitch him back together.

But he wouldn't take this from her- no, he wouldn't be able to stomach the thought of taking everything she had worked so hard for away from her because she was a damn good detective and deserved every good thing that came her way no matter how much he wished he could've seen her one last time before she boarded that blasted airplane to New York and no matter how much he wished he could've traced the pads of his fingertips over the dimples in her cheek because her tiny hint of a grin made every terrible recollection stuck somewhere in his subconscious fade a little bit further away.

The slam of the door behind him brought him back to reality and he came to the realization that he was home- or at least the closest thing he had to a home at the moment- and he chuckled bitterly then because his home used to be her hazel orbs and her warm embrace, and home used to be the smell of a terribly burnt pizza and the blaring of a fire alarm and her embarrassed pink, rosy cheeks when he passed into the threshold of their apartment and into that mess, and home used to be the disheveled sheets and her gentle intake of breath and her soft exhale as she welcomed him inside of her and it was then he desperately wished he hadn't packed up that damn duffle bag and walked out on her without casting a glance over his shoulder. Because maybe then she would still be here. Maybe then she would have his ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, and she'd be crinkling up her nose in disgust at all the different flavors of wedding cake because they'd already decided on red velvet during a time where they played the game of 'what ifs' and 'maybe somedays' tangled up in each other's arms, and maybe then he would have found her digging through a trunk of Camille's belongings, trying to unearth that old set of pearls she'd always known she'd wear on her special day when Hank handed her off at the end of the aisle.

 _Damn it, he missed her._

But alone in the dark and the emptiness of the basement where he had come to lay his head, he was faced with far worse than simply her absence and her lack of a response to his messages because everyone who had ever been to war lied when they said they never thought about it, never remembered the grisly details or the faces of the men they left behind. They lied when they said they didn't second guess pulling the trigger, when they said in the dead of night when they managed to find the sweet relief of unconsciousness that they stopped seeing the eyes roll into the back of their buddies' heads with the sweet release of death or the blood pool around their skulls as the life finally drained out of their battle-beaten bodies.

Desperately he snatched another bottle from the refrigerator without even really looking at it because he wasn't done trying to numb it all and no one was here to hold him or to pull him out of this hole, of this dark and deep and treacherous hole he dug for himself and he was so exasperated at the fact he hadn't been strong enough to deal with this on his own and he was so ashamed that even after admitting defeat and making time for the support group with those kind, understanding soldiers he still wasn't able to get a handle on it or keep it in check. His will to get past this had deteriorated the instant she stepped onto that plane because he'd been fixing himself to earn his place back on the other side of her bed, to finally be satisfied with the man he saw looking back at him in the mirror after the steam of their shared shower had cleared up, to be absolutely certain that he would never lash out and wrap his fingers around her neck to drain the life out of her in the middle of one of his brutally realistic night terrors and now she was gone and there wasn't a point.

The liquid burned the back of Jay's throat as he took another swig and then another and he didn't stop when the tears pooled at the corners of his eyes and he didn't stop when they finally fell down his cheeks because his mind was now a constant blood-spattered recollection of Korengal Valley and no matter how hard he fought and no matter how desperate he became the darkness and the death and the screams of absolute terror of the men he had learned to call family never subsided and in that moment he almost wished he had never made it out.

Somewhere in the haze of his drunken stupor he grabbed for his cell which he'd tossed in a burst of frustration into the mess of couch cushions and blankets, typing out a scrambled message and downing the rest of the whiskey before pulling his knees to his chest and squeezing his blue eyes shut, finally letting the tears fall freely and the sobs wrack his body because in solitary he allowed himself to feel and to not bottle it all up and no one was coming to save him from himself.

—-

Her phone buzzed at two thirty-six in the morning and though she should've been asleep to report to her desk at six fifteen and to have the slightest chance of looking the least bit put together her bout of homesickness was hitting hard and she'd been staring at Hank's parting gift of those dog-tags for hours now, fiddling with them over and over again between her fingers because this place didn't feel right, and this new apartment with it's hard and stiff furniture and it's loud, obnoxious ticking clock on the wall didn't feel like home. And maybe that had something to do with the lack of a blue-eyed detective between its four walls but she'd refused to let her mind wander to that and what she'd left behind and she'd tried- oh, damn had she tried to take Hank's advice and _never look back_ but his name kept appearing on her phone like clockwork at the end of every work day, checking in as he always seemed to do, putting her above himself and making sure she was dealing and handling it even though she was pretty damn certain that _he_ wasn't because they didn't sleep side by side anymore.

But this time, the vibration and the appearance of his name sent her rolling out of bed and to the closet off to her left, tossing a random assortment of t-shirts and jeans and boots over her shoulder to throw in a suitcase and then to the bathroom to get her essentials and then out the door to the airport all in less than three minutes because a single word flashed across her screen and that single word was all it took to bring her back home.

' _Help'_

—-

In exactly three hours and twenty-two minutes she was pounding on Mouch's door, the early rays of sunshine just reaching over the tops of the skyscrapers and casting shadows over her darling city but she didn't stop to marvel at the beauty of her home because he was here and he was hurting and she didn't have him in her arms.

Trudy made it to the door first, with Mouch on her heels in a flurry of confusion and though Erin was a bit of surprise they both simply gave a motion of their heads, nodding in the direction of the stairs and the basement and their beloved ex-Army Ranger and suddenly Erin wished she had prepared for this, had at least come up with a few words to say when she got to him, but the instant she rounded the corner and found him, awake and defeated and staring at absolutely nothing on the edge of a dilapidated couch her heart lurched and she lost her ability to speak. But the sound of her heavy breathing was enough because she watched his blue eyes flicker over to her and she watched him run the palm of his hand down the perfect features of his face because he probably thought this was all a figment of his imagination but she took one, hesitant step forward before he launched himself at her, pulling her tiny frame to him and settling his nose in the crook of her neck because he had never been able to get enough of her faint aroma of vanilla and a touch of coconut. One of his hands found the back of her head while the other settled on the small of her back and she only felt his muscles relax when her fingers began to trace circles up and down the fabric of his henley, pressing her body as close to his as possible because he'd always only ever been truly at ease when she was right there next to him.

"Jay-"

He loosened his hold on her and she froze, searching his pale eyes for answers, for a clue as to what was going on though somewhere in the back of her head she already knew because he'd packed a bag and moved out of her place and started going to a support group and admitted he hadn't got a handle on how to deal with it yet and still wrote a letter like clockwork on the first of every month to send to Mouse overseas, bouncing up and down like an overjoyed toddler whenever he got a response back because that meant he was still alive and coherent and sound.

"I need you here. I need you here- with me. I can't… I can't get better, I can't get past this without you, Erin. Don't go back to New York. _Please_. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you before you were already gone. I tried but… you were already on the damn plane."

Tears welled in her eyes because here he was, laying everything bare before her in a way they'd never done before and one of her hands cradled his cheek while the other continued the soothing circles and the tiniest hint of a smile turned up the corner of her mouth as she witnessed him leaning into her touch because why had she ever been stupid enough to think that she could stay away from this man? Why had she ever thought a place would feel like home without him in it, or that protecting her poor excuse of a mother meant more than the love she felt in her heart for him?

"Jay, I-"

He cut her off again, but the dazed look in his gaze from before had disappeared and he was right here with her, his hands trailing lightly over her hips and then the bare skin of her stomach underneath her sweater because he couldn't get enough of her, not ever in this lifetime but he needed to get the words out because she'd missed so much by boarding that damn airplane and leaving him sitting on the curb in absolute defeat with a lukewarm beer in his hands and the diamond in the other.

"I had my mom's ring. I was ready to give it to you, ready to get down on one knee and tell you that you've been there for me through absolutely everything and I want to be there for you just the same. Erin, I know without a doubt that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and retire to that cabin I have in Wisconsin which I know you're going to love when I bring you there over the summer but I- I need to start by fixing this. By fixing us, and more importantly fixing me because I'm terrified of what I see when I close my eyes at night and I'm terrified every single damn time I hear a gunshot and I- I guess what I'm asking is if I can move back in? If you'll stay here, in Chicago and you'll let me move in and-"

He was babbling now, desperate to make her understand, to make her see how much he loved her and how much he had messed up and how much it had killed him not having her here, but she was crying now and he realized maybe he had made a mistake in unloading all of his on her, in hitting her with it all at once but then her lips were on his and he let out a sigh of relief because he hadn't felt her lips at all in months.

"Jay, you're my home. I don't know why I ever thought I could pretend that you weren't. I'm not going anywhere, and we're going to handle this, all of it. _Together_ ," she whispered and then she was up in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair and finally, _finally_ she was where she was supposed to be.


End file.
